


A Tale of Tails, Scales, and Hightails

by Inadequacy_inabucket



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (links in the description), (srsly guys go give these people some love), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ancients AU, Angel!(kinda)Matt, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Dragon!Keith, Elemental!Pidge, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Goddess!Allura, M/M, Mer!Lance, Necromancy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Saving the World, Tags Are Hard, as usual, based of a twitter post, human!hunk, i promise slav only makes a few brief appearances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 19:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17413088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inadequacy_inabucket/pseuds/Inadequacy_inabucket
Summary: Based of the Ancients AU by @TayTeiArt on Twitter.When the Land of Voltron is faced with the return of the necromancer and ruler of the underworld, Zarkon, the Goddess Allura tries to rally the forces of heaven to save the people of the land she once called home. But the gods have turned their backs on the land which is in ruin from civil war among the races: the Dragons, the Mer, the Elementals and the Humans. They have abandoned the land and it is up to Allura to save Voltron. But she will need help. She sends a message to the royal families of each race: In order to save your people, I will need a representative from each of you to lead your people in battle and participate in a ritual to give me the power to destroy Zarkon once and for all. These representatives will be called: Paladins.





	A Tale of Tails, Scales, and Hightails

**Author's Note:**

> please be gentle with me, it's my first fic
> 
> [Come yell at me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/LeTrashBucket)

Voltron was a land ravaged by war and greed. Races fought each other for land, for wealth and for power. The Dragons ruled the sky, raining brimstone and terror on those on land. The Elementals ruled the land, turning the trees and plants against their enemies. The Mer ruled the sea, causing ships to sink, the fish to divert from nets and storms to ravage towns. The Humans ruled nothing but themselves but did not lack in cruelty. They burned forests, poisoned shorelines and broke eggs. They would be ruled by no one. 

Centuries previous, the race known as the Alteans held dominion over the country after they had successfully joined the Mer, Dragons, Elementals and Humans in forces against the denizens of the underworld, known as the Galra. However that fragile peace was shattered when King Alfor and his wife were killed by assassins. 

Since the fall of the Altean reign, the different races that had once come together in a tense but relatively stable union broke apart in a battle for the throne. War had left the land in ruin. 

And they had no idea what was yet to come. 

The Goddess Allura looked down upon the reflective surface of the water bowl, enchanted to give her a real-time view of the goings-on of the mortal world and sighed.

This was going to be a long shot. But it was all she could do. The other gods had turned their back on Voltron, saying it was a lost cause. They would return to pick up the pieces and begin anew when the races had killed themselves off.

There was no saving them, they had said.

Allura could not allow herself to believe that. She would not allow her own once-home to be destroyed. She was no longer a mortal and therefore had no claim to the mortal throne as she once had. But hopefully her plan would work. Hopefully she could bring peace to her home without further bloodshed.

“You called me, your radiance?” a voice wobbled behind her.

She turned from her position at the center of the small, circular viewing room to regard her messenger.

Matthew was his name. He had been assigned to her upon her appointment as goddess. As she was still a very new goddess by heaven’s standards (barely a baby, in fact), she only had two messengers and a small temple to her name in heaven. Despite her inexperience, she had been given a daunting responsibility. One that she took very seriously. 

She was, therefore, extremely busy by godly standards. 

Which meant that her messengers were extremely busy. She felt bad. They deserved a break once in a while. 

“Hello, Matt. Was your trip to the Mer successful?”

“Yes, my lady. Though your message was not received well, I’m afraid.”

Allura turned from Matt and placed her hands on the table that held the viewing pool. “I did not expect it would go over well. But did they at least listen?”

Matt shrugged, “They heard what I was saying. I just don’t know if they’re going to follow through.”

Allura placed her hand on the rim of bowl and willed the surface to display the image of the Mer’s royal court. Mer guards, nobles and the large royal family took up the surface of the globe, allowing Allura to see the distress and anger on their faces as they debated amongst each other. 

“For the sake of the people of Voltron, I hope they do.”

______

 

Keith was contemplating, in the serious way that toddlers do, whether to squirrel out of his father’s arms and run for his room now or wait until he had been offered one more puff pastry when the god’s messenger arrived.

The castle ballroom was lit with candles in hundreds of gold candelabras which competed for space on tables and tables full of food. Dragons from all over the kingdom, as well as from neighboring countries, were milling around, sampling the food and making small talk.

It was Keith’s second birthday and it seemed like every dragon in the world had showed up to celebrate the little prince. 

Which Keith thought was odd; other than showering Keith with gifts, it seemed like the adult dragons were more interested in talking to Keith’s father than paying attention to him. 

This suited Keith just fine. He didn’t want to talk to them. He didn’t want to talk to anybody. He wanted to go back to his room and drag Shiro into playing storm-the-castle.

He was torn from his thoughts of playtime when a figure suddenly appeared in the middle of the ballroom with a loud ‘pop’, startling all around him.

Keith, never having left the castle in his short lifespan, had never seen anyone like the young man before. His skin was bare of any scales and seemed to glow with a inner light. There were no horns nestled in his brown hair that brushed his shoulders and curled up around his rounded ears. His white, flowing robe gathered at his hip and ended at his knees, leather sandals encasing his feet.

Though why he needed them, Keith didn’t know- he was levitating off the floor, large white feathered wings spread behind him.

A large pair of spectacles covered his brown eyes which were darting around the room as if making sure he was in the right place and that no one was going to throw something at him, an awkward, forced smile plastered to his face, his face muscles trying their hardest to maintain the shape despite his obvious nervous sweating.

He was right to worry, for many dragons had been so startled by the abrupt entry they had reverted from their smaller, bipedal forms to their true forms, knocking over tables and accidentally brushing against columns, gauging the precious marble with glittering scales and long tails and necks to face a possible threat.

They stood down immediately, however, and dipped their heads apologetically when they realized what the visitor was. Keith heard the murmurs once the startled guests had started to relax:

“A messenger!”  
“What is a messenger doing here??”  
“Is something wrong?”  
“We haven’t seen one in decades!”

Keith had no idea what that meant. This didn’t look like one of the young boys and girls who scurried around the castle with their bright yellow messenger scarves.

The stranger seemed to gather himself and swallow hard as he made his way down the center of the room towards the raised dais where Keith sat on his father’s lap, wringing his hands. His wing tips were the only thing touching the floor.

Once stopped at a respectful distance from the king and the young prince, the messenger bent at the waist in an awkward, jerky bow and straightened. 

“Your majesty. I am Messenger Holt, in the service of the Goddess Allura, here to deliver a message on her behalf,” he said, his voice cracking on the first few words.

“The Goddess Allura!”, his father jerked in surprise behind him. Allura? That was one Keith hadn’t heard before. And he always made a point of going with his father to the palace temple and proudly pointing at all the god statues, reciting their names to his father’s approval.

“She has yet to meddle in the affairs of mortals. What has changed?” his father continued, after composing himself, putting one hand on Keith’s stomach, keeping him firmly in his lap.

The strange feathered creature straightened and said more confidently, “Her radiance has seen the state of the land that her father once cultivated into a prosperous utopia where all races could live in harmony. She is saddened by the state that it has fallen to. She was prepared to wait longer to cultivate more power to better assist the people of Voltron in returning to a time of peace but time is now running out: The land of Voltron now faces the resurgence of a threat that has the potential to wipe out all living things.”

A collective gasp swept through the ballroom and the king stilled behind Keith. “You can’t mean-”

The messenger looked the king in the eye.

“Zarkon has returned.”

Hushed exclamations and muffled screams echoed through the cavernous room, amplifying a feeling of dread that struck Keith, though he did not know why; Who was Zarkon? Why was everyone so afraid?

The king tightened his hold on Keith, lowered his eyes to the top of the boy’s head, and took a moment before replying. “You are a messenger of the gods and therefore cannot lie. Otherwise I would have you thrown out for inciting chaos among my court.”

The messenger gulped.

The king looked up. “Goddess Allura is sure of this?”

“Yes, your majesty,” the messenger nodded, hands wringing faster than before.

“And why is she telling us this? Are the gods not going to help us?”

The messenger’s face made more valiant attempts at maintaining a facade of calm, hands reached a new level of wringing fury to the point where Keith wondered if the messenger had gotten his hands into the patch of itchy-weed he had stumbled across in the palace garden not too long ago.

“The, ah-.... The gods. Well,... The rest of the gods have uhhhhh…. Lost? Interest? In this land?”

The ballroom fell silent.

“.... They what?”

The messenger bowed and said in a rush, “The gods have deemed this land unworthy of heavenly intervention and have moved on.”

Another wave of barely contained panic swept the hall. The gods no longer protected them? After millenia of worship? In their hour of greatest need?

The messenger straightened again. “The Goddess Allura, however, has decided to remain with Voltron and work with the races. She believes there is a way for the people of Voltron to survive the return of Zarkon.”

“How??” the king demanded, gripping the arm of his throne so that his claws scratched the marble. “Allura is a goddess but she is a new goddess and she will be working alone! How can one goddess save us from the greatest threat this land has ever faced? The forces of Altea of long ago only barely won and they had the help of the entirety of heaven’s aid!”

“Due to the limited nature of the Goddess’s power, some assistance must be had by the people of Voltron, but she is confident that her plan will work provided the people of Voltron are willing to cooperate.”

“And she has the guaranteed cooperation of the other races? The Humans? The Elementals? The Mer?”

“Well- um,” the messenger began, putting his hands up in a placating gesture, “you are only the second recipient of this message and the first recipients have yet to decide, but-”

“And what does this agreement involve?” the king asked. “What could a goddess possibly need from us mortals to combat Zarkon?”

The messenger seemed to take a deep breath and look at the ceiling, as if requesting the strength of his goddess to assist him. He then slowly lowered his eyes to the floor and spoke clearly,

“The Goddess Allura is the goddess of war and love. They are two sides of the same coin: one with the power of creation and one with the power of destruction. While this country has seen plenty enough war to give Her Radiance power enough for eons, she refuses to use the power that war affords her. It will corrupt her and bend her to its will- she will cease to fight for mortals and will become a Dark One: a twisted god that will not rest until she brings about the end of life. As such, Her Radiance draws power only from love. Therefore, in order for Her Radiance to combat Zarkon and finally end his existence, she will need a representation of the love that the peoples of Voltron have for one another. Rather, she will need a representative from each race to take place in a ritual that will amplify her power. These representatives will be called ‘paladins’ and will join Her Radiance in battle against Zarkon. Once the ceremony is complete, Her Radiance should have enough power to challenge the heavenly hierarchy to become the new Queen of the Gods. The paladins will prove, through their cooperation with each other and with Her Radiance that Voltron is worth saving and will further sway the gods to Allura’s side. She will then have the power to use the full power of heaven to end Zarkon’s reign for good.”

More murmuring. The king was silent as he contemplated what was said, claws tapping against his throne. After several moments of contemplation, he spoke.

“And who would these ‘paladins’ be? And what would be their exact role in this ‘ritual’?”

“Well. Your majesty. In order for a paladin to potentially lead their people into battle as well as be the true representation of their people in the ceremony, they would have to be… well…”

“A member of the royal family,” the king finished.

“Yes, your majesty.”

The claws that had been tapping on the throne, now stilled. 

“Leave us.”

The messenger tensed. “... Your majesty?”

Keith looked up and spoke for the first time that evening. “Daddy, What’s a paladin?”

“LEAVE US!”

Keith jumped in his father’s lap and stared wide-eyed at his father. His father almost never raised his voice. He had only yelled at Keith once before when Keith had tried to run away from home.

Keith’s eyes became wet with unshed tears, his face beginning to crumple. What had he done wrong?

The king noticed his son’s distress and immediately began to speak gently to him, tell him that it was alright and he did nothing wrong, all while wiping tears from his round cheeks. 

That done, he looked again to the messenger and said in a quieter, but no less venomous tone, “Leave. Now. I will speak of this no longer today. Return in one month’s time. You will have your answer.”

The messenger gave one final, jerky bow and ‘pop’ed out of existence, leaving a single feather behind in his haste.

The ballroom erupted. Declarations of outrage and expressions of shock rung so loudly that Keith began to feel frightened again, worried that he caused this upset. He buried his face into his father’s chest and began to whimper.

His father wrapped one arm around his trembling son and used the other to reach for his staff leaning against the side of the throne and rapped it twice against the marble floor, silencing the hall.

“The festivities are over. Please return to your abodes for the night.”

All dragons, including the ones still in their true forms from the earlier disturbance, bowed and began filing out of the room, talking in hushed voices.

Once the last guest had left and the great doors had been shut, the king stood up, his still-sniffling son in his arms and made his way to the royal quarters. 

Before he could go far, however, one of his council members stopped him in the hallway.

“Sire, we must discuss-”

“Tomorrow.”

The councilwoman stopped in her tracks. “Tomorrow? Your majesty this is a matter of great-”

The king growled, “I said I will speak no more of this today, Councilor Amberscale. I will not say so again.”

She dipped her head to the side in a show of submission. “Yes, my lord.”

The king swept past her and managed to avoid further interruption before reaching the doors to the royal suites. The guards opened the doors to his son’s suite. Before they could close them behind him, the king called back, “Send for the Shirogane boy.”

The guard nodded and closed the door, affording the king some privacy with his only child. 

The king allowed himself a brief moment to compose himself, taking a deep breath. He almost prayed to the gods for strength before admonishing himself. They no longer meddled in the affairs of mortals. They no longer cared for them. They had abandoned him and his people.

He was pulled from his increasingly angry thoughts by his son’s whimpers. Keith had smelled his father’s distress and was responding to it, thinking it was his fault.

The king again began to soothe Keith, petting his cheek and exuding softer, more comforting pheromones. “It’s alright, Keith, you did nothing wrong. I’m here. It’s alright.”

Keith’s breathing began to even out. Too much yelling, too much noise, too much attention had left him shaking.

The king carried the tiny dragon to his nest in the next room, only a few doors down from the king’s own chambers. The king never could allow himself to be very far from his only child. Not after they had both lost Keith’s mother. 

The king lowered his son into the center of countless pillows, blankets, and pieces of clothing Keith had gathered from his father and from his best friend, the Shirogane boy. The king remembered when he had first found a shirt that he recognized as belonging to the white-haired child in his boy’s nest. He had come very close to throwing him out of the castle.

Keith quickly buried himself under piles of suitably fluffy and soft items and the shivering seemed to subside as his father placed his hand on the mound of cloth and began to hum in a soothing manner.

After a while, a small and muffled voice came from the pile.

“... Daddy?”

“Yes, Keith.”

“Why was everybody upset? Was I bad?”

The king chuffed quietly, “No. You did nothing wrong, little one. It’s just-”

The king found he did not have words to comfort Keith. If what the messenger said was true then Keith, his only child and the last of the royal line of dragons, would be taken away and expected to fight against the greatest threat Voltron had ever seen. And with a goddess that had no guarantee that her plan was going to work.

But if what the goddess said was true, then the king had no other choice. There was no possible way for the kingdom of dragons to fight off Zarkon and his forces without help. And an attempt at an alliance with the other races without the backing of a goddess? Laughable. Their disputes had lasted since before the Altean rule and had since gotten worse. They would have no chance without Goddess Allura’s help.

A latch sounded behind the king and the Shirogane boy, Takashi peeked around the side of the door as the king turned to him. “You called, your majesty?”

“Keith has had a rough day, I’m afraid. I was hoping you could help me cheer him up before bed.”

Shiro nodded and entered the room. The seven-year-old boy was the son of a soldier that had inadvertently saved the king’s life in a battle with a group of elementals harassing a family cluster on the border. The soldier’s dying breath had been spent pleading with the king to take care of her wife and son and the king had agreed. The boy’s mother had gone mad with grief over losing her beloved and the king had taken both the woman and child to the castle for the woman to receive long-term care by the best physicians the kingdom had to offer and for the boy to receive an education and have a chance at life he wouldn’t have on a backwater farm. He and Keith had become friends by chance upon his arrival at the palace and hey had since become inseparable. 

Shiro crawled into the nest with Keith and the toddler, smelling his best friend, emerged from under the mound and settled into Shiro’s waiting arms. The two young eyes turned to the king expectantly.

“Which story will it be today, birthday boy?” the king asked. Shifting on the bed to make himself more comfortable.

Keith shifted slightly, gripping Shiro’s arm like a lifeline. “Daddy, who’s Allura?”

The king sighed again, recognising that despite being able to avoid the subject with his councilors, he would be unable to avoid his son’s curiosity for very long.

“Maybe I will tell you her story tonight, then. Though I will warn you- it’s not a very good bedtime story.”

Keith gripped Shiro’s arm tighter and scrunched his face at his father, daring him to deny his request. Shiro looked down at the tiny dragon clinging to him and smiled.

Seeing no way out of it without Keith throwing a tantrum, the king resigned himself to recounting the origin of heaven’s newest deity.

“Centuries ago, in the time of the Altean people and the unity of the races, a girl was born to the last king of Altea. Her name was Allura.”

**Author's Note:**

> [TayTei's Twitter](https://twitter.com/TayTeiArt), go give her some love
> 
>  
> 
> [The post that got me to write this fic](https://twitter.com/TayTeiArt/status/1083578373945917442)
> 
>  
> 
> Gonna be honest with you, I'm a paramedic- I will update when I update.


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